Silver Bells and Blue Ribbons
by catlover5040
Summary: When Lassiter finally proposes to Marlowe, not all goes down as perfectly as he would have liked. Juliet feels that he has betrayed her trust, and thus begins a long and complicated struggle to get their partnership- and friendship -back in order. Lassiter has to unravel the baffling mystery of her mind, and- in the words of a confidant- earn her back.
1. The Big Question

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any of the characters.  
**

**This is non-canon because I started writing it before Season 7 came out. Deal with it.**

* * *

The scene was set. The time was perfect.

The time was now.

We were at a department party, the end-of-the-summer celebration that O'Hara invented when she transferred from Miami six years ago. At first, I had objected to the party- for one thing, we didn't have anything to celebrate, since we worked all year round; and for another, I hated parties -but she just rolled her eyes and went ahead with it, and now, six years later, it had become a legend. She and Guster always put their little heads together every year to make it perfect, and I really had to admit, they had outdone themselves this year. We were on the beach and they had small tents set up about ten or twelve feet away from the shore, with white and blue lights strung all over everything, with silver ribbons tied in between each light(tedious work I suspected she used all her time off to complete). There were small silver torches staking out the place, something I had told her was a fire hazard and that technically, if she burned the entire place down she could be an accessory to murder, but she just rolled her eyes at me saying that I was too paranoid and sometimes she thought I needed psychiatric help, and that of course she wouldn't burn the whole place down because we were on the beach. There were tables set up with silver tablecloths and blue table runners that O'Hara had hand-sewn herself.

Blue was Marlowe's favorite color.

Which made the situation all the more perfect.

I made my way through the crowd, past where the Chief was presenting her elusive husband to some of our colleagues, past McNab and a handful of the younger officers, past where Henry was lecturing Spencer and Guster about something(and, naturally, they all three looked like idiots). Near the back of the party, I found O'Hara and Marlowe talking avidly about... something.

"Marlowe," I said, grabbing her arm and interrupting O'Hara mid-sentence. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Of course," she said, beaming angelically, glancing back at O'Hara for approval, who nodded but looked slightly put-out. I supposed that she thought since she had spent weeks, probably months, planning this, she shouldn't be interrupted. Well, she was probably right, but that was nothing to what was about to take place. She smiled nonetheless and disappeared, probably to find Spencer. Marlowe looked up at me questioningly. I led her back through the crowd, but near the water's edge, probably about three feet away. I cleared my throat, a little unsure of where to start.

"Marlowe," I began, "ever since I met you, well, there's been something new in my life. Something that's never been there before. Something... wonderful."

"And?" she breathed. She looked as if she was scared she would break the moment if she so much as blinked.

"And- well, there's no simple way to say this," I said, taking her hands in mine, "and I suppose that's a good thing, because this isn't simple." I looked up at her, searching her eyes sincerely. "It's... it's complicated. Wonderful, but complicated."

Her eyes grew wide with a mixture of excitement and wonder. "Carlton-"

I cut her off by dropping down onto one knee and whipping out a beautiful diamond ring. "Marlowe, will you marry me?"

For less than a split second, there was complete silence. Then she broke into a radiant smile, the most beautiful one I had ever seen. "Yes, of course, yes!" she cried.

As I slid the ring onto her finger, there was thunderous applause from nearby. I looked over and saw that the entire crowd was watching us and applauding their approval.

"Kiss her! Kiss her!" an almost indistinct shout came from among the crowd, and I saw Spencer jumping up and down with a slightly demented grin on his face.

For the first and hopefully last time in my life, I obeyed Spencer. I seized her by the shoulders and kissed her.

Those three seconds seemed to last an eternity, but when we pulled away from each other I suddenly recognized a feeling throbbing in the back of my head. It was an instinct telling me that something wasn't right. It was almost as if I was upset or annoyed about something, but how could I be? I had just made the most important decision in my life. I couldn't have ever been happier.

I glanced toward the crowd and saw an endearingly familiar figure disappearing through the crowd. I understood suddenly... the sudden confusion, the throbbing in the back of my head. It was nothing to do with me.

It was O'Hara.

"Marlowe, just a minute," I said, smiling at her, and she nodded and turned to talk to a group of well-wishers. I had lost track of O'Hara in the crowd, but I knew I could find her. I shoved my way through the group of people trying to stop me so they could congratulate me and followed the footprints that I knew were hers.

I went past everyone and ducked under one of the tediously-decorated tents where I found O'Hara sitting at a table with her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking slightly.

I advanced towards her and sat down in the chair next to her with one thought running through my mind- Comfort her.

"O'Hara," I began, putting an arm around her, "whatever it is-"

"Don't touch me," she snapped, twisting away. Her eyes were red and her face was tear-streaked, but her voice was completely devoid of emotion.

I slowly pulled my arm back toward myself. "O'Hara, tell me what's wrong."

She laughed scornfully. "Like you care."

Getting a little annoyed, but reminding myself that she could be a very emotional person sometimes, I tried again. "Listen, I-" I took one of her hands, but she pulled away immediately.

"Don't touch me," she repeated more forcefully. "Leave me alone."

I sighed as a thought occurred to me. "If you're jealous of Marlowe-"

"Jealous?" she sprang to her feet, knocking a centerpiece off the table. Her eyes were blazing through her tears and I could tell I had said the wrong thing. "How- how dare you- I can't believe you actually think that I would ever want to marry you."

"O'Hara, you're being unreasonable." I too rose to my feet, stung by this remark. "Just tell me what's wrong."

"Well, I think you ought to know, Carlton." she said tilting her head slightly and smiling nastily. "After all, it's not a secret."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," I shot back, feeling more and more annoyed.

"I don't know if I'm remembering this correctly, Carlton, so correct me if I'm wrong," she said, raising an eyebrow, "but I believe you weren't too happy when you discovered that I had started dating Shawn without your consent. You were furious that I hadn't told you, at the time, I thought you were jealous-" this was so ridiculous that I opened my mouth to interrupt her, but she went right on- "but now I see your point. Partners deserve to know each other's secrets. I can think of more than one occasion within the last year-and-a-half alone in which I saved your life. You were so furious with me about not telling you about my relationship with Shawn, but you didn't so much as hint that you were going to propose to Marlowe."

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" I protested. "I'm sorry that I offended you, but now you know and I hope you can get over it. Does that make you happy?" I turned to leave.

"Happy's not the word," she said in a brittle voice. I froze in my tracks. That was exactly the same thing I had said one year ago when I discovered she was dating Spencer.

"O'Hara-" I began, turning around slowly.

"No, don't say anything," she snapped. "I want to finish what I'm saying."

"Suit yourself." I crossed my arms, trying to keep calm for both of our sakes, but I didn't think I could do it.

"You see, someone told me this once," she said, taking a step closer to me and narrowing her eyes. "Someone I once respected. And since they've told me this, I've really taken it to heart." She turned away for a second, apparently trying to control herself, and then turned back with the ghost of a tear in her eye. "Partners do not lie to each other. We do not keep secrets from each other, because we put our lives in each other's hands."

I grew still as the impact of each of her words hit me. That was exactly what I had said when she betrayed my trust that same year ago.

"And so I'm sorry," she continued, "if I come off as whiny or immature. But this person, the one I used to respect, they've been good to me. They've always protected me. Tonight, though, is proof. That person is a fool. That person is you."

I stared at her with a dull, sinking feeling. She turned around, flipping her hair behind her.

"Think about it," she said in an icy voice. "Meanwhile, I'm going to talk to the Chief about getting me a new partner. One I can trust."

She turned and walked silently away. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, completely stunned by what had just happened.

"Carlton?" Marlowe's voice brought be back down to earth. I jumped a little and turned to see her, looking slightly concerned.

"Yes?" I stood up straighter in an attempt to look dignified. She smiled at me, but I could tell she was still worried.

"Er- I was just wondering what had happened to you," she said. "And... well, Juliet left a few minutes ago."

I groaned inwardly. "Did she?"

"Yeah," Marlowe said, looking up at me earnestly. "She, um, seemed kind of upset. I thought you might want to know."

"Right," I said heavily. "Well, I imagine it's personal, so I'll just let her sort it out on her own."

She looked a little confused. "Okay," she said, smiling cheerfully, but I knew she wasn't fooled. She knew I had something to do with it, and that I knew more.

"Well, let's get back to the party," she said, still smiling placidly. I nodded and let her lead me back towards everyone else, but my mind was elsewhere.

With O'Hara.

* * *

**So, what do you think of the first chapter? There's more to come! Please read and review!**


	2. Till We Have Faces

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych. The chapter title is the name of a book by C.S. Lewis. I do not own that book.**

* * *

The next morning when I came into the station, I was pretty sure that O'Hara wouldn't be there- If she was still upset, which was probably the case, she would probably lie in her bed pouting for a few hours before she decided to come into work

Therefore, I was pretty surprised when I saw her sitting up straight in her chair, her desk littered by chocolate wrappers and coffee cups. She was still stressed out about the previous night. _Well, that's just great._

"O'Hara," I began, walking over to her desk, "I- I'm really sorry about last night."

She looked up at the sound of my voice and her name, but then rolled her eyes with disgust and went back to the document she was typing up.

I sighed and went to my own desk, only to discover that none of my stuff was there anymore and there was now a plaque with someone else's name. There was also a note from the Chief saying that my desk had been moved because we had a new transfer from a different police department so the desks had been re-arranged. I looked around for a desk with my belongings and my name on it and groaned.

Of course, it was the desk facing O'Hara's. I could see why the Chief would do that, and normally I wouldn't have cared, but under the circumstances it was going to be unbelievably awkward.

I looked at the desk and sighed again. She looked up at me with a half-bemused, half-irritated expression on her face, and then raised an eyebrow and went back to her document. Feeling more than slightly awkward, I sat down in the desk chair and got out a case file I was supposed to read.

_Kathleen Fisher, age 38, was found dead in her apartment at 1:30 AM on Sunday, January 17... _

I glanced at O'Hara over the top of my computer monitor..

_...she appeared to have been strangled..._

When I finally caught her attention she rolled her eyes and looked away...

_...the prime suspect is her ex-fiance, Benjamin Keith..._

...she went right on with her typing, but I could've sworn that she was glancing at me out of the corner of her eye...

_...Keith was last seen at 9:00 PM the previous night, reportedly fleeing Fisher's apartment..._

...I tried to catch her attention and she merely scowled...

_...Jasmine Randall, 9, who lives with her mother in an apartment parallel to Fisher's, says that she was looking out her window and saw "a strange man outside the apartment, arguing with somebody"..._

...I cleared my throat and she kicked me under the desk...

_...Keith has not been seen since-_

Something hard hit the side of my head and the case file fell from my hands and to the floor. Rubbing my head, I looked up and saw O'Hara, who was suddenly standing next to me. Her blue eyes were on fire and she was holding a battered, hardback copy of _Till We Have Faces _by C.S. Lewis.

"O'Hara, what the heck was that for?" I demanded, rising to my feet angrily.

"Oh, I don't know, but obviously I didn't get the message across," she said haughtily and delivered another good _whack _with the book. My eyes started watering.

"Can't you _ever _let something go?" I snapped, struggling and ultimately failing to keep my voice level. "Can't you ever give someone the benefit of the doubt once in a while? Be reasonable!"

She laughed derisively. "Oh, this is good." She laughed again. "I cannot believe this. I really _cannot _believe this. Carlton Lassiter is actually asking me to be _reasonable!" _The laughter vanished and her expression grew severe and angry again. "Like you're one to talk!" She swung the book at me again and I felt a burning pain in the back of my head and my vision blurred slightly.

"Stop that!" I yelled, ducking out her reach. "Stop- _stop that this instant, Juliet O'Hara!"_

The use of her full name made her freeze and she looked at me with distaste and fury. She opened her mouth to say something, but she was cut off by a furious voice behind us.

"Detectives, _what _is going on?" the Chief demanded, looking from me to O'Hara and back to me.

"Uh, Chief," O'Hara began, holding up her hands in defense, "what you have to understand is-"

"I think I understand the situation for myself, thank you very much," the Chief said, still looking from each of us in disbelief. "In my office _now, _Detectives."

I glared at O'Hara as we followed the Chief to her office, and when we fell into step with each other, I whispered furiously, "Well, look what you got us into now. We're both going to get fired. Not your most brilliant idea, _Juliet." _

"Yeah, well, _Lassiter, _you're sure one to talk about brilliant ideas," she whispered back. "Proposed to anyone lately?"

I opened my mouth, prepared to come back with a witty retort- it was as if she was implying that it was a bad idea for me to marry Marlowe -but before I could say anything, the Chief glared at us and opened the door to her office. Scowling at O'Hara, I entered and took a seat. O'Hara sat down next to me, but on the edge of her seat, as though she were worried that the chair would explode.

"Detectives, I cannot have this," the Chief said angrily, striding behind her desk and sitting down in her chair. "I cannot have you fighting with each other like a couple of fifth-graders. You're supposed to be _working together, _for goodness' sake, you can't be hitting each other with books! You simply _cannot _be arguing, because every single day _you put your lives in each other's hands-" _

There was a strange noise, somewhere between a furious cry and a sob, and the next minute O'Hara was at the door. She swung it open and, shooting one last desperate, furious look at me, she disappeared through it.

I closed my eyes and groaned. When I opened them, the Chief was staring at the door with a purely mystified expression on her face.

"What is wrong with her?" she murmured.

"Trust me, Chief, I've been trying to work that out for myself," I said wearily.

"It's not like her to be that- that sensitive, is it?" the Chief said, more as if she was talking to herself than to me.

"No, I don't believe so," I muttered under my breath.

"You-" she hesitated. "You haven't had any- _personal_ arguments recently, have you?"

"Yes, Chief, I'm afraid we have," I said heavily, "and I'd rather not talk about it."

She looked at me appraisingly for a second and then said, "Very well. In the meantime, try to stop arguing."

For a moment I just stared at her- How could she possibly expect me to do that? But then I remembered that O'Hara was young, and she would probably get over this soon.

"Right," I said, getting up and making for the door, but before I left her voice stopped me.

"And, Carlton?" she called after me. "Just- try to be sensitive, won't you?"

"Er- Right," I said again, and swept out the door before she could say anything else.

_Be sensitive? _What the heck was _that _supposed to mean? Was she just trying to get us to stop fighting, or did she know something about O'Hara that I didn't?

* * *

A couple hours later, I was working on a missing persons case and trying to ignore O'Hara, who was giving me the silent treatment and fingering the edge of her book. That is, until I heard a voice from a few yards away.

"Well, well, well, what have we here, detectives?" the arrogant voice crowed. "You're all at your little computers and doing... police stuff. Wow, it's too bad I didn't bring my camera. If I submit this to America's Funniest Home Videos, I could get ten thousand dollars!"

"Spencer, whatever you're doing get the heck out of here," I said without looking up from my computer.

"Oh, hey, Lassie, didn't see you there," he said cheerfully. "Hey, Jules," he said, ambling over to her chair and kissing her on the top of her head. I could've sworn I saw her flinch when he did that, but why would she? She was crazy about him.

"Hi, Shawn," she said resignedly. He grinned and sat on her desk.

"So, what's up today?" he asked us in what obviously he thought was an offhand voice. "Setting little puppies on fire, pulling wings off of butterflies?"

"Shawn!" O'Hara snapped, sounding shocked and annoyed. "Of course not!"

"Chillax, Jules, I was just joking," he said, looking slightly alarmed and holding up his hands in surrender. "Just- just joking."

"Hm," she said, hitting a few buttons on her keyboard aggressively.

"Give a man a break," he said, rolling his eyes and getting off the desk. "You don't have to be so- so touchy." He walked around and sat on my desk. "Have any cases for me, Lassie?"

"I never have cases for you, Spencer," I said absently.

"You're right," he said. "I should've phrased that differently. Are there any cases that you are currently unable to solve?"

Juliet smirked, and I fully expected her to give Spencer a list of all the cases that I was supposed to be working on- but she didn't say anything, she only remained very tense. Spencer went right on talking about random things I could care less about- didn't he ever know when to shut up? I became painfully aware of the fact that O'Hara looked as if she was going to burst into tears at any minute.

"-and so now, since the paint job on Gus' car is pretty much ruined, he has to get a new one, and I told him he should get yellow so he can call it 'The Pineapple'-"

"Just- just stop talking, Shawn!" O'Hara cried unexpectedly, jumping to her feet. Her eyes were suddenly full of tears and her entire body was trembling.

He both startled and concerned. "Jules," he started to say, getting to his feet and taking a step towards her. "I-"

"Shut up!" she shrieked, the tears flooding down her face. "You're the most insensitive jerk I've ever met! Leave me alone!" she grabbed her purse and was gone in two steps.

"What was that about?" Spencer said in a strange, distant voice.

"I have no idea," I murmured. "She's been acting the same way ever since I proposed to Marlowe last night. One minute she's in tears, the next she's absolutely furious-"

"What did you say?" Spencer interrupted, looking anxious.

"I said she's been acting the same way ever since I proposed to-" I began.

"Oh no," he muttered, sinking down onto my desk again. "Oh, no, no, no, no."

"Spencer, what's your problem?" I demanded, just as intrigued by his sudden strange behavior as I was by O'Hara's.

"She- she-" his voice was thick as if he had just choked on something. "Great. This is just great."

"Spencer, tell me what's going on," I snapped. Perhaps this was the answer to O'Hara's behavior.

"I won't tell you, I'll show you," he muttered, plunging his hand into his pocket and clenching something in his hand. He opened his hand, thrusting it in his face.

"Spencer, is that an _engagement ring?" _I said, staring at the small object in the palm of his hand.

"Yes, Lassie," he said in a tired voice. "That's exactly what it is."


	3. Like Visiting an Old Friend

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.  
**

* * *

"Okay, let me get this straight," I said about fifteen minutes later, leaning back in my chair again. "You wanted to propose to O'Hara."

"Yes," Spencer replied.

"And you thought she wanted you to," I continued.

"Er- yes." He rubbed the back of his neck as if he was embarrassed.

"But you were wrong."

"Yes."

"_Would you stop saying that, Spencer? _And you've been carrying that ring around ever since in case the moment 'presents itself'."

"Yeh-" he stopped himself mid-word when I glared at him. "That's the idea."

"And?" I looked up at him through narrowed eyes.

"Aaand... what?" he looked both bemused and apprehensive.

"And _why did you think it was even a good idea in the first place?" _I hissed, looking around us to be sure no-one was listening. "Why did you _ever _think it was a good idea to propose to _my _partner?"

"Because- because-" For once in his life, Spencer seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Exactly," I said. "There isn't a good reason."

He sighed. "Come on, Lassie. I know you hate me, but you can't make her stay single forever."

"I can try," I said stubbornly.

"You want her to be happy, don't you?" he asked.

"Yes, just with someone who's not you."

For a second, he looked as if he didn't know whether to bury me alive or storm out of the room. The next second, he merely said, "Well, that should answer your question." He got up to leave.

"No, it doesn't," I snapped. He slowly sat back down on my desk. "What does this have anything to do with anything?"

"I think- well, I think she found the engagement ring," he said, staring at the small object ruefully. "I think she saw it, and maybe- well, I think she was upset that it was you proposing to Marlowe instead of me proposing to her."

I observed him carefully. He didn't seem to be making up things just to annoy me, nor did he seem like he was mistaken. He seemed pretty sure, and pretty distraught about what he was saying.

"Happy?" Spencer asked, getting up.

"I might be, but O'Hara isn't," I snapped, throwing a paper clip at him. He threw it back at me. I glared at him and set it down on the desk.

"So..." he said. "What do you suggest we do?"

"We? There is no 'we' in the matter, and if there is, I'm not part of it. _You _are going to go talk to her, apologize for your life, and cheer her up."

"How am _I _supposed to do that? She's mad at me."

"You're her boyfriend! Do _something. _Tell her... I don't know, that there are a lot of fish in the sea, and don't you _dare _give her that stupid speech about all the 'interesting coral and sea urchins'," I added hastily when his expression brightened.

"I can try, but it's not going to work," he said. "You've gotta talk to her, Lassie. It's the only way."

He shrugged and walked off. I stared blankly at my computer screen. Maybe he was right, for once in his life.

Or maybe not. There was no way to find out but to try.

Anyway, it was better to have O'Hara blow up at me again than to have Spencer upset her with his clumsy, tactless words.

"Wait for me, Spencer," I called after him, throwing the paper clip again. He caught it between two fingers and bent it into the shape of a pineapple, and then set it down on O'Hara's desk.

"Right," he said, surveying the bent paper clip with an expression of solemn authority. "Let's go see what's up with my sweet girlfriend."

* * *

"Don't touch _anything _but the door handle and the seat," I warned Spencer as he got into the back of my car.

"Why do I have to sit in the back?" he whined.

"Because I'm a police officer and you're a good-for-nothing fake psychic who lives in a dry-cleaners," I replied.

"No, I live with Jules," he corrected.

"That's even worse. Just put on your seatbelt and shut up. I wanted them to put bars on the windows back there, but they wouldn't let me."

"Har, har, har," he said drily.

We drove in awkward silence after that. I heard noises in the backseat as if he was tampering with something.

"What are you doing, Spencer?" I snapped.

"Nothing. Is this an Colt Anaconda under the seat?"

"Put the gun back, Spencer!"

"Ooh, what's this one? An elephant gun?"

"I don't have an elephant gun! Put it back!"

"Dude, is this a game of 'How many guns can we hide in a tiny car'? Oh, look, you still keep your old Glock 22 from when you first joined the force. How cute."

"Shut your piehole!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Lassieface? Nothing shuts my piehole but pie."

"Just stop playing with the guns, you moron!" I barked.

"Oka-" there was the sound of a gunshot and shattered glass.

"Spencerwhatdidyoudo?!" I shouted.

"Hey, no need to get all grumpy on me. I'm just saying, when they say 'semiautomatic' they should mean it."

"I don't think you know what that term means. You're paying for that window," I said irritably as I pulled into the parking lot of O'Hara's apartment.

"Right," he said, jumping out of the backseat. "Okay, here's a Boy Scout bandana. Tie it around your neck. We'll pretend to be Boy Scouts looking to see if there's any service we can do for her."

"Don't be an idiot," I snapped, throwing the bandana back at him. "I'm not pretending to be a Boy Scout. She'll know it's us. How many thirty-and-forty-year-old Boy Scouts have you seen around here?"

"Good point. I hadn't thought of that yet,' he admitted as we walked up to her front door. "You knock."

"You knock."

"You knock!"

I glowered at him and raised the door knocker. It opened almost instantly.

"What do you want?" O'Hara demanded. Her eyes were red and she looked as if she had been crying the whole time.

"Uh-" Spencer stammered. In what seemed like one motion, he snatched my car keys, ran down the steps, got into my car, made a U-turn and left. I turned to O'Hara with what must've looked like a helpless grin. She rolled her eyes and held the door open.

I stepped inside, looking around. It seemed like it had been a long time since I had come here last, but I still remembered where everything was- or rather, where everything should've been. On the mantelpiece above the fireplace, the six pictures of us- I had given her one for her birthday every year since we became partners -were gone.

"Where'd you put the pictures, O'Hara?" I asked quietly.

"Away," she answered.

"Sit down," I said. She narrowed her eyes and remained standing.

"Okay, fine, be that way," I said, really trying with all my heart to stay calm. "I- er- I'd like to talk to you."

She raised her eyebrows and sat down, balancing precariously on the edge of her couch.

"What's wrong with you?" I demanded, my voice sounding crosser than I had intended. "Why are you being so unreasonable?"

She looked away for a minute, and I could've sworn I saw a single tear slide off her face. When she looked back, though, her face was quite calm.

"You betrayed me. Shawn's being a jerk as usual. I have a tough job and a tough life. I think I'm _allowed _to be unreasonable sometimes, don't you?"

I ignored this comment. "Did you find the wedding ring?" I asked softly. "The one that Spencer had?"

She didn't answer and looked coldly into the distance.

"O'Hara." I knelt down in front of her. "I'm not trying to start a fight. If something's bothering you, I want to know."

She scoffed. "You really care?"

I jumped to my feet. "Have you forgotten everything?" I shouted, abandoning my calm pretense. "Everything that's happened? Have you forgotten the clocktower?"

She had rose to her feet as soon as I had, about to leave, but she froze on the word "clocktower".

"Have you forgotten how I saved your life right on time?" I continued icily. "Have you forgotten how hard you cried? Have you forgotten how I carried you down _every darn flight of stairs _after you fell asleep standing there? Have you forgotten how I took two weeks off work to make sure you were okay?"

She slowly turned back to face me, clenching and unclenching her wrists. "I haven't forgotten, Carlton," she said, her voice a strange mixture of anger and misery. "I haven't forgotten anything."

"Then why are you acting like you have?" I demanded.

She closed her eyes and sat down again. "Shawn and I have had some fights. It was nothing to do with you, at first."

Then she stood up. "You just made it worse, though. Proposing to Marlowe was just bad timing. You betrayed my trust, and I can't forgive you for that. Not now, anyway."

I stared at her, shocked how she was saying this all so casually. She took me by the arm and escorted me to the door.

"See you later, Carlton. Maybe you'll take some time to think about what you did."


	4. Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.**

* * *

So she and Spencer had a big fight, and I got stuck in the crossfire.

That was cool.

I was okay with that.

Sort of.

_Why am I being such a coward? _I asked myself as I walked, hands in my pockets, back to the station. _Why am I not trying as hard as I can to sort this out?  
Because you can't, _a negative voice, that sounded oddly like O'Hara's, said in the back of my head. _You're weak. You can't sort this or anything else out. You're the world's worst man. That's why your last wife left you-_

"Stop it!" I said aloud, as if O'Hara were there to hear me. I looked all around to make sure she really wasn't there.

I was alone.

"I'm the world's worst _detective," _I muttered, continuing my trek back to the station. "If I can't solve this mystery, I can't solve anything else."

Then again, maybe women _were _more complicated than murders or bank robberies. It was really impossible to tell. To me, though, getting back on good terms with my partner was much more important than throwing low-life criminal scum in prison- and that was saying something.

Nevertheless, I was in a sullen mood when I straggled into the station. It was probably partly because it was at least 80 degrees out and I had walked at least three miles.

"Carlton," the Chief called from across the room the instant I entered. "I was looking for you."

"Were you?" I said grumpily.

"Yes, actually," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching. "I'd like to talk to you in my office."  
Too worn-out, both physically and emotionally, to argue, I followed her to her office. She sat down behind her desk and gestured for me to sit.

"I wanted to talk to you about O'Hara," she said.

"It wasn't my fault, Chief," I said defensively.

"I wasn't going to blame you for anything," she said evenly. "It's just, as her partner, it's your duty to watch out for her."

"I do my best," I snapped. "It's not my fault she acted like a third-grader when I made the most important decision of my entire life."

"I'm not talking about Marlowe," she said, leaning back in her chair and watching me carefully. "Not particularly."

I groaned. "What do you mean?" First there was Marlowe, then O'Hara's fight with Spencer. What next? How many emotional issues did she _have _right now?

"More specifically, I'm talking about your relationship," she said, with that strange gleam in her brown eyes that gave me the familiar feeling that she knew a few fair things I didn't. "Your relationship with Detective O'Hara outside of the line of duty."

I raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to explain.

"She appreciates you more than you could ever imagine," she said with that quiet determination in her voice. "She's learned so much from you, Carlton. She looks up to you. She's been struggling to earn your approval for seven years, and given all that, I'm sure she feels underappreciated sometimes."

"What are you saying, Chief?" I asked, leaning forward.

"I'm saying you need to earn her back, Carlton," she said with the ghost of a smile on her face. "Show her you love her. Show her you care."

I nodded, watching her just as closely as she was watching me. "How do you suggest I do that?"

"I don't know. You're a grown man, Carlton, solve your own problems," she said, but not unkindly.

I nodded again and stood up. "Thanks, Chief."

She nodded back. "Good luck, Carlton."

* * *

"I'm home, Marlowe," I said unenthusiastically when I came home that evening.

"Great," she called from the kitchen. "How was work?"  
"Police work is as police work does," I responded, hanging up my coat.

"Anything interesting happen?"

"I solved a murder case, exposed a drug dealer, and recovered stolen firearms. Nothing more interesting than usual."

"Anything else interesting?" she came to greet me, apron and all.

"If by interesting you mean humiliating, socially awkward, and emotional, then yes, lots of interesting things happened." I followed her into the kitchen and she put me to work chopping up vegetables.

"How's Juliet?" she asked quietly.

Dang, was _everyone _going to get themselves involved in the O'Hara situation? "She's still mad at me," I responded, hacking away at a particularly large squash. "She whacked me with a book at least three times, almost got us fired, and went home to pout. I tried to apologize, Spencer stole my car, O'Hara kicked me out of her house, and the Chief gave me some really weird advice."

"What's that?" she asked.

"She told me... that I have to... earn her back," I said, recalling the Chief's words. "It was more of a command, really. It's not often she gives me advice that doesn't have something to do with a case, so you know it's important when she does."

Marlowe was silent for a moment and I could tell she was thinking hard. "I think it's good advice, Carlton," she said finally. "I think she's a wonderful girl who you need to keep in your life. She's your best friend, Carlton, and you probably won't ever find someone as good as her again."

"It's not like we're going steady, Marlowe," I snapped. "We're not even friends. We're just partners."

"I would think," she said gently, her voice accompanied by the chopping of her knife against the bamboo board, "that partners have feelings too."

Stunned by this statement, but still refusing to yield, I retorted, "She means nothing to me. I don't care about her."

The chopping stopped abruptly. "Take it back," she snapped. "I know you don't mean it. Take it back."

She was right. I didn't mean it. "Okay," I said, holding up my hands in surrender, "_okay..." _

"Anyway," she said, incredibly bouncing back to her former cheery mood, "I'm sure she was just surprised. I'm sure, at the end of the day, you'll have you differences sorted out."

I glanced out the window. The sun was setting. "I don't know about the end of the day, Marlowe."

She slapped me with a mixture of affection and annoyance. "It's a figure of speech, Carlton."

"Right." I slid the vegetables off of the chopping board, into the frying pan, and turned the stove on. "How do you suggest I go about doing it?"

"You know Juliet better than I do, you figure it out," she responded.

I groaned, stirring the vegetables around in the pot tiredly. "I don't _know _what to do. No-one knows. O'Hara's mind is a tougher case than anything else I've ever had to solve. I might as well make a case file. First she's upset when I propose, then I found out she's upset because of Spencer- it never ends with her!"

"I think the Chief's advice was very helpful, if you think about what it means," she said from the other side of the kitchen where she was working. "You're a smart man. You're a _detective, _for goodness' sakes! Think about how she feels about you. Think about what would show her you care."

"That's what everyone keeps saying," I said savagely, stirring the vegetables viciously, and accidently knocking a few out into the flame of the stove.

"Carlton, careful," Marlowe said reproachfully. "You don't want to knock our entire dinner out of the frying pan and into the fire."

_Out of the frying pan and into the fire. _I sighed as I watched the two pieces of broccoli burn up in the flame. That was exactly how I felt.

* * *

That night, after Marlowe went back to her apartment, I collapsed on my couch, the Chief's words still ringing through my head.

"Earn her back," I muttered, staring at the wall blankly. "What the heck's that supposed to mean?"

I closed my eyes. Silence fell, and the only sound was the ticking of the clock on my mantlepiece. I glanced up at the mantle- there was a single picture of me and O'Hara, from her birthday last year. All the others were of me and Marlowe. Beside the picture of O'Hara was that wretched clock. With the the hands moving mechanically, it reminded me dreadfully of the clocktower that had almost killed O'Hara three years ago. I grabbed my shoe and threw it at the stupid clock.

There was a loud crash and the ticking ceased.

What was I going to _do? _Everything was so confusing right now. Yesterday I had made the most important decision of my life, and I thought all would be well at least until the wedding- but no, now my relationship with my partner was in shambles and everyone was giving me cryptic advice. After I did the one thing that I _thought _would make sense, nothing made sense.

I groaned and rolled over. "Gosh, O'Hara, are you trying to kill me?"

_Of course she isn't. _I stared up aimlessly at the ceiling. _She's trying to bury you alive, that's all. _

"What _am _I going to do with you?" I muttered, struggling to not give in to the temptations of sleep.

* * *

I wasn't aware of falling asleep, but the next thing I knew it was light and birds were chirping and I was in a very bad mood.

_Darn you, birds._ I glanced automatically at the mantlepiece to check the clock, and then remembered I had destroyed it last night.

Instinct told me that it was about eight in the morning. "Darn it, I slept in," I muttered, getting off the couch instantly.

I found my coat, car keys and gun and stormed out the door. It was time for another stupid day at work with a partner who I couldn't get along with.

I swerved down the roads I knew like the back of my hand, and within minutes I was pulling into the station. I jammed down on the brakes, flung the door open and slammed it shut again, punching the "lock" button on my car keys viciously.

"Well, someone's in a good mood today," the Chief said sarcastically when I stomped through the doors and slammed my briefcase down on the floor.

"No better than ever, Chief," I responded nastily, throwing my coat over my chair and making for the shooting range. "Where's O'Hara?" I asked suddenly, noting that her desk was empty.

The Chief didn't answer, as if she was pretending not to hear me. It was then that I realized that something was wrong.

Everyone was silent. No-one would look me in the eye. Everyone stepped around O'Hara's desk carefully as if it were hallowed ground.

I stopped in my tracks.

"Chief?" I said urgently. "Karen, what is it? What happened to O'Hara? Is she okay?"

The Chief turned away as if trying to control herself. When she turned back, it was with an expression of forced calm.

"She went missing last night, sometime around midnight. We don't know where she is or even if she's alive. We've got Spencer in the interrogation room right now, he claims to not know where she is."

"Let me in there," I growled. "I'll crack him like an egg. If he knows something, I'll get it out of him. He's her boyfriend, for goodness' sakes, he ought to know _something-" _

"Carlton, don't you want to see the crime sc- I mean, her house first?" the Chief grabbed my arm to stop me from going to the interrogation room, which was probably a wise decision. "Investigate a little? Make sure you know what's going on here?"

"You know I will," I muttered, but consented to let her drive me to O'Hara's house.

It looked normal enough. The door was hanging open, but other than that there were no suspicious signs.

"Is anything missing?" I asked, looking around and trying to remember everything I had ever seen in this house.

"Nothing. That's what's so troubling. Her car's still here, her cell phone, her badge, her wallet, her gun-"  
My blood froze in my veins. If all that stuff was still here, then that meant, more likely than not, she had been kidnapped. And if she didn't have her gun, that meant wherever she was, she was defenseless, helpless.

"For heaven's sake, O'Hara," I murmured, sinking down onto a nearby chair. "If you're dead I'll never forgive myself."

"It's going to be fine, Carlton," the Chief said, sitting down next to me, but I could hear the worry in her voice. "If she's out there, we're going to find her."

* * *

**A/N: What did you think? I was sort of getting bored, so I threw in a little twist. I don't know if I'll keep it dramatic, but we'll see. **


	5. It Can't Be True

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.**

**Shout out to Loafer for giving me good reviews on every chapter and for writing AMAZING stories :)**

* * *

"I'm telling you, Lassie, I don't know where she is!" Spencer insisted.

"Spencer, this is important," I said, struggling not to lose my temper. "If you know anything, anything at all- not just where she is, but anything at all about what she might've been doing, who she's been with recently-"

"I don't know _anything!"_ he snapped. "All I know was that she was at the station yesterday, then she went home after she got mad at me. I don't know anything else."

"Are you sure?" I pressed. "You're her boyfriend. If something was up with her, you should know, and something's _definitely _up-"

"Nothing's up that I know of." Spencer threw up his hands in defeat. "Have you called her parents? Maybe she's visiting them."

"Yes, we called her parents. She was supposed to drive down to their house today, but she hasn't shown up and they haven't heard from her."  
"Well, you're wasting time with me," he said. "I don't know anything."

I slammed my fist down on the table. "Darn you, Spencer, we've been here for hours! Tell me _something!" _

He stared at me for a long while, carefully and solemnly, as if trying to decide what best to do. Finally, he said, "Justin Bieber sucks."

"I meant something to do with the _case," _I snapped.

"Case?!" he exploded, finally losing it. "Lassie, there _is _no case! She up and left, that's all! She's mad at everyone for one reason or another, so she abandoned us! Either she'll come back or she won't! Case closed!"

"Trying telling that to the D.A.," I snarled.

"Maybe I will," he shouted, and sprang up from the table and stormed out.

I sat there for a while, fuming, until the door opened and someone came in. I looked quickly over my shoulder and saw that it was Marlowe.

"What are you doing here?" I asked weakly.

"The Chief called me and told me that you were really upset," she said, and made her way over to the table. "She said Juliet went missing last night."

I nodded. "We think she was kidnapped."

"She'll be okay." Marlowe sat on the table and crossed her legs matter-of-factly.

"We have no way of knowing." I looked past her and at the cement walls.

"She's a tough kid. I highly doubt she was kidnapped, and if she is she'll escape soon." She leaned forward intently, as if she was keen to get her message across to me, and then began to speak with a power that I didn't know she was capable of.

"You don't give her enough credit for who she is, Carlton. You think she's helpless without you, but she isn't. I didn't know either of you three years ago when she was captured by Yin, but I've heard enough about it between the two of you to give you some insight on the situation. I know that was an important turning point, so to speak, in your relationship. You rescued her and for that moment, on that day, she relied on you. Her life relied on you. There's no use denying it."

She paused, and went on. "But that was _then,_ Carlton, and you have to understand that not every day, not every situation is going to be like Yin. There's not always going to be a serial killer there to capture her. She's not always going to need you to rescue her. You have to face the facts and come to peace with them. She's not a little girl. She's thirty years old, she's a detective, and she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself. You're not her father and you can't protect her forever. There are going to be times when you're not going to be able to protect her, and more often than not, she's going to be okay."

I stared at her. After that speech, my brain wasn't really working anymore. It had been trying so hard to process everything Marlowe was telling me that it kind of went numb and stopped working.

So many things she said had been true. Ever since Yin, I had gone out of my way to protect O'Hara. I had been afraid to let her go out of my grasp for fear that I might lose her.

I sat there numbly, staring at the wall for what must've been hours. I was vaguely aware of Marlowe slipping her arm around my neck. Maybe she was right. Maybe O'Hara was okay. Maybe I was just overreacting.

Then again, maybe not.

There was no way to know.

* * *

"Carlton- _Carlton!" _

The Chief was shaking me by my shoulders viciously. I had zoned out in front of my computer when I was supposed to be reading a case file.

"Carlton, we just got a report," she said urgently. "Someone found a body near the docks. It may be her."

I sprang to my feet. "_Who? _O'Hara? She's _dead?" _

"Calm down." She took my hand soothingly. "It might not be her. People make false reports all the time. We just have to go I.D. the body."

"Don't say that!" I yanked away from her. "It's not her! It can't be!"

"Do you want to come or not?" she looked at me with a sort of fierceness in her eyes.

I stared at her for a long while. "Yes," I said finally. "If it's her, I want to be there."

She nodded. "I'll drive."

I flew out the door, with the Chief on my heels. My heart was pounding in my ears and I couldn't hardly hear myself think.

_Even if it is her, _I thought desperately the whole car ride there, _even if they're right, maybe it's not too late... maybe she isn't dead._

We came to a red light. I groaned and turned to the Chief.

"Can't you _do _something?" I demanded.

"It's a red light, Carlton," she said calmly. "It'll turn green in a few seconds."

"That might be too late!" I shouted, reaching for my gun.

"Carlton!" she slapped my hand. "What are you doing?"

"Shooting that red light. Then it won't be red anymore."

"Well, it won't be green either," she snapped. The light turned green.

"Thank goodness," I muttered as she drove on. "Hurry up!"

We arrived at the docks within a few minutes. I shoved the door open and ran as fast as my feet could carry me to the small cluster of uniforms and forensics.

"Get out of the way!" I snarled, shoving through the crowd to where the body was lying on the tarp. It was a young blonde woman, but the body was turned face down. I knelt down and rolled the body over.

"Sir, don't touch-" someone tried to say, but I ignored them. I squinted at the face and tried to recognize it.

It wasn't her.

Thank goodness.

"It's not her, Karen," I called, standing up and walking back to where the Chief was. I felt odd and shaken and disoriented.

"Thank heavens," she murmured, rushing towards me at light speed.

"That still leaves the question of where she is," I said heavily.

She squeezed my hand. "We'll find her. I promise."

"Promises don't have much bearing for me anymore, Chief," I said weakly, and she squeezed my hand again and led me back to the car.

* * *

I was sitting at my desk, staring into the empty void of my computer screen once again. The Chief, who was standing by my desk lecturing me, had given me the day off, but I refused to go home in case we got a call about O'Hara.

"Carlton, I really think you should go home," the Chief was saying. "A lot has happened today. If we get a call, I promise I'll call you-"

"I'm _not _going home," I said rudely.

She sighed. "You're upset. You're traumatized. You're not thinking straight-"

"Are you patronizing me?" I interrupted, glaring at her.

"No, I'm trying to talk some sense into you," she snapped.

"I have sense, I just don't want to use it."

"Well, I can see that..."

"Oh, har, har, har..."

What seemed like hours but in reality was probably only about ten minutes passed by uncomfortably. Not able to stand the silence anymore, I said, "I just don't know what I would _do _if she was dead."

"I understand," she said gently. "You've really come to care for her. You hide it, but I can tell."

I looked up at her questioningly. She smiled.

"I was there at the clocktower after you rescued her from Yin, you know..."

"Oh." A wave of understanding and slight embarrassment washed over me. "You- you saw that?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly a private venue," she said with the bare hint of a smile on her face.

I nodded and leaned back in my chair.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," she added gently. "I'm glad that you care for each other. Partners should."

Before I could respond to this, a grim voice interrupted us."Chief. Detective Lassiter."

I turned around. It was McNab.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"Um- we got another report," he said carefully, watching my face for my reaction. "It's Detective O'Hara. They found her body."

"For sure?" My blood went cold.

"Not for sure. There was no I.D. They need you to come and confirm it."

"Again?" I groaned.

"I'll go." The Chief stood up. "Carlton, you stay here or go home. You've been through enough today."

"No, I'll come," I insisted, forcing myself to get up out of my chair. "I told you I want to be there if it's her."

* * *

We pulled into the parking lot of the park where the body had been found. My heart was pounding even louder than the last time.

"Carlton, are you okay?" Karen asked, glancing over at me.

"I'm fine," I answered, gripping the arm of my seat. "I'm- I'm fine. Perfectly fine."

She raised a single eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Why don't you stay here?" she asked. "I'll go look at the body, and I'll tell you if it's her."

I didn't object. She got up and left, pushing the car door closed behind her.

A few minutes passed. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. This was silly, I realized. There was just no way it could be her. She was probably perfectly fine, wherever she was, and she would come back and we would make up and go back to being both partners and friends. Then my life would be normal for a few weeks, until it took a turn for the better when I married my fiance. Then, hopefully, I would go back to my normal, therapeutic routine of exposing, arresting, and convicting hundreds of scumbags every year. And I would have two wonderful women with me the whole-

"Carlton!" Karen's shouts cut into my thoughts. The driver's door was ajar and she was leaning across her seat, shaking my shoulders again. "Carlton, Carlton, _Carlton!" _

"What?" I demanded, interrupting the parade of "Carlton"s. "Karen, what is it?" Suddenly a sense of dread came over me, something I couldn't shake, thicker than the fog at sea. "Oh, no. It's not- it isn't-" my voice broke.

"It's her," she whispered, her shoulders slumping. "I'm so sorry, Carlton. It's her."

"No." I felt my face grow hot and I turned away quickly. _No. You can not do this. You can not cry. Head Detectives do not cry. Men do not cry._

"I'm so sorry," she said again, her eyes filled with a pain and sorrow I seldom saw. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Let me see," I demanded, flinging the door open and slamming it again. "I won't believe it until I see."

She just looked at me and nodded. The look on her face made my heart sink. During the ten-yard walk to where the body was- which was the longest walk of my life -my heart kept sinking lower and lower. By the time we reached the body it must've been somewhere near the center of the earth.

"Strangled," the Chief said softly when we approached.

I knelt down by the young blonde woman and my eyes widened. The familar blue eyes were frozen in terror, the rosebud lips I knew so well were puckered in a terrified sob. It was her. I couldn't deny it, and even if I wanted to I didn't have the energy to.

"Oh my gosh," I whispered, standing up. "Oh, my gosh." My legs gave way and I fell back down onto my knees, grabbing her hand and lacing my fingers with hers.

"O'Hara, I'm so sorry," I choked, rare tears sliding off my face and onto her body. "I am so, so, sorry. I'd give anything-"

I broke off, no longer able to speak. I vaguely heard the Chief saying my name, trying to get through to me, but as far as I was concerned she wasn't there. I was the only being in this universe. It was just me and my beautiful, beloved partner.

Or what was left of her, anyway.

I sat there for what felt like hours and, this time, probably was. My world had ended. I couldn't carry on like I used to. Nothing could be the same anymore.

Then a heart-stopping voice sounded behind me.

"Carlton? What's going on?"

I scrambled to my feet, whirling around in disbelief.

"_O'Hara?" _


	6. A Bouquet of Flowers

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.**

* * *

At first I didn't know whether to shout at her or hug her or storm out.

It couldn't be her. It just couldn't be. It was impossible.

Yet she was standing right there before my own eyes, just a few feet away, perfectly unharmed.

I gaped at her, not believing my own eyes. I looked from her to the body and back to her, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

"Who's that?" she asked, looking at the body with bewilderment.

"I don't know," I said, still staring at her, feeling faint. "We thought she was you."

"What are you talking about?" she knelt down by the body and observed it critically. "She looks nothing like me."

I took a step towards her, feeling dazed, and touched her hand to make sure she was real. She stared at me and held my gaze.

"What the heck?" I murmured.

"Yes, O'Hara." The Chief's voice made me jump. I had forgotten she was there. "What the heck is going on here?"

"I don't know." O'Hara threw up her hands in frustration. "I just got here. All I know is, I decided to take the day off. I needed some time to think. I didn't tell anyone. End of story."

"No, O'Hara, beginning of story," the Chief said brusquely. "Why did you leave at midnight? Without your gun or your phone to boot?"

"Yeah," I interjected, coming out of my trance. "What kind of a person wanders around at night without their weapon or their cellphone?"

"A person who doesn't feel threatened and doesn't want to talk to anyone," she snapped. "I really didn't want to talk to anyone, so I didn't take my phone. Now it's your turn to explain."

"What is there to explain?" After I got past the shock of seeing the woman I had been sure was dead, I found myself getting angry. "We thought you were in danger and we found a dead girl who looks almost exactly like you. The circumstances were suspicious, and you didn't take your car or your wallet!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" she shouted. "Apologize because a dead body looks like me? Apologize because you're the world's worst detectives?"

I was silent.

"If you had a single ounce of logic, any of you, you would've checked my car and found out that the battery was dead," she said haughtily. "If you had any intelligence, you would've looked inside my wallet and found that my I.D., my credit card and a few twenty dollar bills were missing. If you had any deduction skills at all, you would've realized that sometimes some people want to get away without other people always knowing where they are!"

"O'Hara, that's not fair," the Chief started to say, but it was too late.

"You're an idiot, that's all!" I shouted at O'Hara, my eyes blazing. "You can't get along with anyone and so you just try to run away from your problems! You're a little girl who likes to call herself a detective and charms her way through the ranks!"  
Her face twisted with fury. "You're an idiot, too!" she shouted back. "You're a heartless, uptight detective who can't hold a good relationship for more than a few years! You don't even care about me!"

"That's not true," the Chief intervened, which only seemed to make matters worse.

"It is true! He's never cared about me!" she screamed, her eyes suddenly full of angry tears."You've never cared about me, Carlton! You only care about me when bad things happen to me! Like when I almost died, or when you think I'm dead! You resent my relationship with Shawn and you can never be happy for me!"

I felt a very unpleasant feeling come over me. I hated, hated, hated being mad at her, but I couldn't let her get the upper hand now.

"Maybe it's true!" I bellowed. "Maybe I don't care about you because you're too busy flirting with that moron Spencer! Maybe I don't care about you because you're not worth caring about!"

I had crossed the line. She exploded into tears and turned on her heel and ran.

The Chief turned on me in complete bewilderment. "Carlton, what just-"

"Don't ask me what happened!" I yelled, turning on her. "I don't care!"

I ran as far as I could in the opposite direction.

* * *

As it turns out, there are a few situations that will, without fail, make the Chief lose her cool.

This was one of them.

I went back to the station, prepared to go down to the shooting range. The moment I stepped through the door, though, she stopped me.

"O'Hara took the day off," she said coldly. "Second day in a row."

"Why do I care?" I snapped, trying to push past her, but she grabbed my arm to stop me.

"I can only imagine it was because of you."

"Well, of course it's because of me," I retorted. "Everything's my fault nowadays, isn't it? When in doubt, blame it on Carlton Lassiter."

"She's young, she's a little naive, and she's having a tough time lately," the Chief snapped. "Can't you just get along with her?"

"Chief, she freaked me out!" I protested. "We thought she was dead!"

"Yes, exactly. You should've been grateful to see her," she said, her voice colder still. "What happened to 'I don't know what I'd do if she was dead'? What happened to the man who was sobbing on the ground in the park?"

"I wasn't sobbing," I said irritably, but she waved a hand.

"What matters is that you cared about her. You were worried. Now that she's alive, you're angry with her. She needs your love and your friendship, Carlton, not your scorn and anger!"

"If she wants love and friendship, she should go to summer camp," I muttered. The Chief looked at me steadily in the eye.

"Alright, then, I'll transfer her to the Ventura PD and give you a new partner."

"What?" I said, something snapping in my brain. "Chief, you can't do that-"

"See?" she said with a triumphant smile. "You care about her. Now, I suggest that you swallow your pride and think long and hard about how you're going to mend your relationship. My words still stand- you need to earn her back."

"I can't do that, Chief," I said gruffly.

"Yes, you can," she said. "Or you'll have to figure out how to. Otherwise, I can and will take extreme measures."

Now, what did that mean? Did all women speak in riddles? Was she actually going to transfer one of us, or did she have something else in mind?

Flowers. The stupid flowers. I stared at them hatefully. They were Marlowe's idea and they were ugly.

Who would want someone to give them flowers? I thought, trying to burn a hole through the center of the bouquet with my gaze. Flowers just sit in a vase and wither and die.I know O'Hara would probably prefer a Colt 1911. Because she's mypartner.

My partner. I had always liked the sound of that. Not the partner part, but the fact that she was mine. Not anyone else's, or not from a collective group. Mine to work with and be with and- as the case was -fight with. Over the years, we had formed a secure friendship that was pretty badly damaged now.

Friendship that Marlowe thought a couple of roses could fix. They would have to do, though, because sadly I didn't have Colt 1911s to hand out every time I upset someone.

Here I was, standing on O'Hara's doorstep, holding a bouquet of flowers and probably looking like an idiot. I would've looked a lot cooler holding a Colt, but that wasn't my decision to make.

I picked up the door knocker and let it fall a little harder than I had intended to. It opened almost immediately and there she was, glowering out at me, and she slammed the door again.

"O'Hara!" I shouted, knocking on the door again. This time she didn't come.

I groaned. I was worried that I might have to resort to this. Thinking about how I could be penetrating hundreds of targets right now, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the silver key that Spencer had given me and stuck it in the lock.

"How'd you do that?" she demanded when I swung the door open.

"Your dear boyfriend," I retorted, holding up the key, which had a pineapple drawn on it.

Something- perhaps it was anger -flashed across her eyes when I mentioned Spencer.

"Can I please talk to you?" I asked, struggling to make my voice polite.

She surveyed me for a while. "Fine," she said tartly. "Five minutes. Exactly five minutes, then you're out of here."

"Fine. Five minutes. I can do that." Without asking, I crossed the entryway to her living room and sat down on her couch. Slowly, warily, she came and sat on the coffee table with her legs crossed.

"These are for you," I said, handing her the flowers. She looked at them and raised her eyes.

"Lemme guess- Marlowe's idea," she said wryly.

I shrugged. "Yeah. I wanted to give you a pistol, but..."

I trailed off. She smiled slightly at the pistol comment, although it came out as more of a smirk.

"I just wanted to say," I said, closing my eyes with the difficulty of it all, "I'm- I'm really sorry about earlier. I'm sorry I lashed out at you."

She laughed. It wasn't the usual laugh I knew so well, though- it was an empty, hollow one full of anger and sadness and vulnerability that made me cringe.

"I was scared, O'Hara," I said, leaning forward and taking her hand. "I thought I had lost you for real, and being on the bad terms that we were- it broke my heart thinking that you had died with those feelings."  
She didn't answer, but her hard expression had softened slightly.

"It freaked me out, that's all," I said soothingly. "I'm sincerely sorry if I hurt your feelings in any way. You're one of the most important people in my life and I would never, ever do anything to lose your friendship on purpose."

She still didn't answer. I took a deep breath. Why couldn't I be good at powerful speeches like my fiance apparently was? Why did I have to think about my words so often?"

"I'm really sorry. I promise I am," I murmured, taking her other hand. "You're a wonderful, beautiful young lady and I promise I'll try to treat you with more respect."

Her eyes were open wide with wonder and bewilderment.

Then she broke.

She leaned forward onto my shoulder, tears streaming down her face. Not knowing whether this was good or bad, but knowing that I had to calm her down, I pulled her onto my lap and held her for a while.

I tried to close my eyes to relax, to tell myself that everything would be okay now, but every time I did I flashed back to the clocktower after Yin. And that sent me back to the worry and the stress I went to in those strenuous minutes leading up to her rescue.

"O'Hara- Juliet, it's okay," I said, trying not to sound like a wishy-washy sentimental person, but it was hard when she was crying all over me like that.

She looked up at me with red eyes, and it was then that I realized she must've been crying ever since she left the park. I felt my heart twinge guiltily at this thought.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just- it's just-" Her shoulders slumped. "I've been through a lot these last few days. You couldn't imagine."

She was right. I couldn't, but I had a feeling it would be extremely insensitive to say so.

"I've just felt unwanted and unloved for the longest time," she said quietly. "After what you said earlier- about me not being worth caring about-"

"O'Hara, I didn't mean it," I said, feeling stricken. "I was upset. I'm so sorry I said that. You're more than worth it."

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that," she said softly. "I was hoping you'd say that. It

was kind of the last straw, though, because I was starting to think you were the only person left who cared about me..."

She trailed off and I looked at her sharply. "What about your boyfriend? Is he not taking care of you like he's supposed to?"

She laughed shakily. "Shawn and I have been sort of growing apart lately."

"Sort of?" I put my arms around her to steady her. "Define 'sort of'."

"He moved out. Temporarily," she added hastily.

"Until when?" I demanded.

She looked slightly alarmed. "I don't know. Until we're ready."

"Well, I'm sure it's all him," I assured her, putting one hand on her shoulder and taking her hand with the other. Then a thought occurred to me. "You never told me if you knew about that ring he had."

She laughed again, this one shakier still. "Oh, I found it, alright," she said ruefully. "I don't want to talk about it, though."

"Okay." I pushed her gently off the couch and onto her feet and she helped me up. I smiled at her and she smiled back, though she wasn't the bright, happy girl I knew before. Her eyes were red and she looked like a girl who was just barely pulling through.

I pulled her towards me again and almost lifted her off her feet this time. "I'm so sorry about the things I said earlier. I didn't mean it, any of it. You're not an idiot, you get along with almost everyone, and you sure don't run away from your problems, otherwise you wouldn't be here right now. If I'm not one of your problems, then you're a saint. Furthermore, you're not a little girl, you're the best detective I've ever seen, and most of all, you're worth caring about. You're more than worth it. If things work out between the two of you, Spencer will be a very lucky man."

She laughed again- timidly, as if she were frightened of something. As if she were frightened of me.

Before I could say anything, though, she stepped away from me."You better get on back to the station, it's already-" she glanced at her clock and I followed her gaze, realizing that it was broken.

"You broke your clock?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah," she said again, sitting on the coffee table and tracing the pattern carved onto the top with a single manicured finger. "So what?"

"Why?"

"I-" She seemed to be at a loss for words and leaned forward so that her hair fell over her face.

"You're not crying again?" I leaned forward and pushed her hair behind her ears.

"I'm fine." She hugged her knees to her chest and looked heavenward. I could tell she hadn't been crying, but her eyes- they always gave her away -told me she had wanted to.

"Why'd you break your clock, O'Hara?" I tried again.

"Yin." The answer was simple. I had known it, I just wanted to hear it out loud.

"You're not having nightmares about that again, are you?" I remembered the three painful weeks after she had nearly been killed, when we all struggled to get our lives back in order, when she called me every night in tears because she couldn't sleep.

"No," she said defensively. "I was just thinking about it, that's all."

There was silence. Then she said, "I think it's been over five minutes."

That was obviously my cue to leave. "Yeah, I guess," I said reluctantly, walking toward the door. She smiled and followed me.

"Have a good day," she said quietly, opening the door and closing it behind me.

Hey, that wasn't so hard, I realized as I headed back to my car and opened the door. I had apologized for what I said and we understood a little tiny bit of what was going on in each other's minds. I could tell she was still upset with Spencer, life, and me- any old fool could see that. We still weren't on ideal terms and it would take a while for her to fully trust me again.

Luckily, I had the perfect plan to earn her back.


End file.
